The Reality of Wonderland
by Dalia N'Shard
Summary: Alice Pleasence Liddell, 17 years old, believes that Wonderland is only an imaginary world, created for her and her siblings by Reverend Dodgson. But when returning a pair of gloves left by a rather jumpy guest, she will find out just how real, and just
1. Chapter One: White Rabbit

**Alice Pleasence Liddell, 17 years old, beleives that Wonderland is only an imaginary world, created for her and her siblings by Reverend Dodgson. But when returning a pair of gloves left by a rather jumpy guest, she will find out just how real, and just how dark Wonderland really is.**

**White Rabbit**

"This is a madness we can't control." A soft voice whispered, invading her sleep, the girl twisted unconsciously, fighting with the invisible noose that hung her in her dreams. A flash of dark cherry hair before her eyes; and a slender icy hand enclosed her neck, sharp blackened nails digging into her flesh. "Wake up Cricket, revel in your sane world until they find you."

The noose continued to tighten, cutting off her air supplies, causing Alice to wake, clawing at her throat. Her hands came in contact with her long braided black hair which had become wrapped around her neck in her sleep. "Oh!" she laughed nervously as she unwound the dark coil. "And to think that if I had only stayed asleep a little longer I may have suffocated myself to death." She shuddered at this thought, eyes wandering towards the clock as she massaged her throat.

Her eyes widened at the time, a quarter past seven, and she was still in bed. Pulling on her robe, she hurried to her wardrobe and pulled it open, the maid who usually woke her had been taken terribly ill, half a week ago, and a replacement maid had not been found.

Choosing a simple pale blue morning gown trimmed with cream, she removed herself to the powder room to dress. Tightening corset strings and tying in ruffled crinolines was not Alice's idea of a fun way to start the day, the whale bone tended to chafe horribly and the less said about the bustle, the better, but her mother was a stickler for fashion.

Glancing in the mirror, Alice notice that her hair must have left bruises on her neck. Upon closer examination, she found that there were a series of small cuts on her neck, as if someone had dug their nails into her skin, a chill went down her spine as she recalled the strong, cold hand that had wrapped around her neck in her dream, along with the noose.

_Don't be silly Alice, it was only a dream._

"Alice, please come down, you mustn't keep our guest waiting."

_A guest, now who could that be? _

Tying a wide black ribbon around her neck to hide the bruises, she rushed out of her room and down the stairs.

Lorina Hanna Liddell watched in disapproval as her second eldest daughter skidded into the Drawing Room, looking much like a disarray of fabric and black thread.

"I had been hoping to introduce a lady, but as it seems that said lady is non-existent, I would like to introduce you to my fourth eldest. Mr. Weiss, this young…lady is Alice. Alice, this is Mr. Weiss, he is traveling on business from Austria."

Mr. Weiss was a small, plump old man, dressed in a white suit and red waistcoat. His face was friendly, if a little agitated around the edges, topped off with a fluff of white hair. All and all, he reminded Alice greatly of the white rabbit in the stories Reverend Dodgson used to tell.

_Why even his name means white in German! _

Mr. Weiss stood and took her hand, "A-a-a p-p-pleasure to m-meet you m-m-m-miss Liddell." He stuttered, his hand shaking slightly.

_Oh, the poor man, such an unfortunate stutter._

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, Herr Weiss." Alice replied, knowing full-well that her mother disapproved of any language but English being used under _her _roof.

Mr. Weiss, however seemed to brighten, his watery blue eyes shining with gratitude. "Y-you speak d-d-deutsche, how v-v-vonderful! You have such an intelligent daughter, Mrs. Liddell."

"Thank you Mr. Weiss, now, what was it you were saying about the silk riots in India?"

Alice sighed,

_Trust Mother to only be interested in fashion related news._

Alice's eyes wandered, as she listened on and off, to the conversation, her eyes rested on Mr. Weiss's pocket watch, which he held in one hand, and seemed to tap nervously against the arm of his chair. It had a strange design on its silver frontage, almost like a tree.

_That is if a tree was capable of appearing able to swallow one whole._

"Off course, if it were up to me, I would send the Marines in there to straighten those barbarians out!"

Alice's attention was drawn back to the conversation by her mother's remark. "But what is so wrong about the Indians governing themselves?" Alice enquired; it seemed like the obvious solution to her.

Lorina laughed, "They need us, my dear. Without the British, they would be back eating raw meat and living in caves."

"But I read that they had a flourishing culture before we took over."

"Dear, that was Muslim infestation."

The clock chimed 9 o'clock, startling Alice; she hadn't realized just how much time had passed.

"D-dear me, is it r-r-really n-n-nine?" Mr. Weiss muttered, fumbling with his watch. "I-I-I m-must b-b-be off, i-i-it h-has b-been a p-pleasure." He bowed and left hurriedly.

Lorina turned to face her daughter, "Really Alice, we'd just started a pleasant conversation and you had to bring up such subjects. You've embarrassed our guest so much that he left, he even forgot his gloves!" She gestured towards a pair of white kid gloves. "Now be a dear and return them to him."


	2. Chapter Two: Through The Rabbit Hole

**I am back, and still alive.**

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**Through The Rabbit Hole.**

"Herr Weiss! Herr Weiss!" Alice turned a corner to see Mr. Weiss leave through the front door. "Please wait, you forgot your gloves!" she dashed out the door, pausing only for a shawl to ward off the chill of early spring.

_My, it's just like the book, what with chasing Mr. Weiss and all. It's almost like chasing the white rabbit._

"Herr Weiss, wait! Please!" She caught sight of Mr. Weiss as he turned onto The High.

"Herr Weiss!" She dodged pedestrians as she followed, dropping any lady-like pretences she may have possessed. Ahead of her she saw Mr. Weiss make a left down St Edmund Hall Lane into Queen's Street then turn into New College Lane, causing her to become half worried that he might leave Oxford altogether before she could return his gloves.

He stopped shortly before the city gates and turned down St Helens Passage.

_He must be going to Turf Tavern; I can give him his gloves when he gets there._

But he wasn't heading for the Tavern; instead he turned down a narrow side street which she'd never noticed before.

Stopping at the entrance, she squinted, trying to make out the name on the rusty placard. "Con…" She narrowed her eyes at next few letters which where rusted over, then giving up, skipped to the next word. "Hus…?"

Had she understood Old English, she would have known that 'Hus' was house, 'Con' being the first half of Coney brought it out to meaning in modern English 'Rabbit House' or 'Rabbit's Hole'. Had she known this, she might not have been so keen to follow Weiss in down the narrow passage.

Pulling her skirts close around to prevent them snagging on either wall, she moved forward. As she progressed further down the passage, she noted uneasily that it seemed to close in both overhead and on either side, growing progressively tighter as she went.

Before long, it seemed to her that she would become stuck if she moved ahead any further. She winced at the sound of her dresses fabric catching on the rough walls and tearing.

_Only a little more, then I will leave if I don't discover where he went…_

Taking one more step, the heel of her boot caught on a stone, and she fell forward with a startled cry, her ankle twisting beneath her. She braced herself, arms out before her to stop her fall on the hard ground, but the ground never came and she plummeted down into darkness.


	3. Chapter Three: Eat Me, Drink Me

**Eat Me, Drink Me**

When Alice regained her senses, she found herself laying in a pile of rags and smooth stones, her ankle throbbing painfully. At first she did not recall what had happened though slowly it returned. Gazing up, she noted a faint pinprick of light high above her.

'_Dear me, what a fall, I wonder how one is to ever find one's way back out of here. Or perhaps there is no way out. But I do not want to stay down here forever.'_

The pile beneath her shifted, sending her sliding down amid clattering stones, but they weren't stones as she was to discover when one rolled into the dim light cast by the distant opening, revealing a pale skull grinning at her, the flesh having been picked away long since by rats and other more sinister things.

With a startled cry, Alice pulled back, crying out a second time as she disturbed her injured ankle. She sat, staring at the blank socketed grin, until her attention was drawn by a distant tapping and the sound of laughter echoing from somewhere far ahead of her.

'_Perhaps whoever is there will tell me how one may_ _leave this dreadful place.' _She thought fervently, _'Oh I do hope so!" _

Doing her best to ignore her pain, Alice stood, and hobbled slowly toward the sound, doing her best to put as little pressure as possible on her injured ankle.

Ahead of her, the laughter grew louder and more raucous, as did the tapping, joined in with a sound like nails drawn across a slate.

Her groping hands brushed against dusty velvet between her and the sounds.

"Hello?" she called out, "I do hope I am not disturbing anything, but I am lost, does anyone know the way back above ground?"

The laughter and noises halted abruptly, followed by a sudden flurry of sound, then silence.

"Hello?"

There was no response.

'_Oh dear, I do hope I have not offended anyone.'_

Alice took hold of the curtain and pulled it aside, blinking back bright bursts, as her eyes, which had become accustomed to the darkness where met with the brightly lit interior of the little room beyond. The floor was covered with candles, save for a narrow path across to a little door, near half her height. Pulling her skirts around her, Alice moved down the narrow candlelit passage, careful not to set herself alight on the flames. Leaning forward, she opened the door and, going down on her knees, scooted through on hands and knees. Finding herself in another narrow passage, the ceiling of which brushed the top of her head, she contemplated going back, but the door had shut fast behind her and she could find no handle on the inside. Alice continued on with growing resignation, until she saw another light ahead. The passage opened out to a vast room like a cathedral's interior, candles climbing up the walls, illuminating a high vaulted ceiling, painted with intricate storm clouds, lit here and there with a flash of gilded lightning interwoven with reds and oranges, like the fires of hell. At the center of the room stood a long dining table of some translucent glass like material, upon which were situated at intervals, glass decanters of red wine and silver trays of little white cakes, each one neatly iced in different pastel shades.

'_So curios,' _Alice mused to herself, _'almost as if t'were the book, almost makes one wonder…' _she cast her gaze about the room but could not find the little door from the story, she could not even find the way she had come, no matter how much she searched.

With a sigh of resignation, she seated herself at the table. Gazing idly at the nearest decanter, she found that if she looked at it from the right angle, it was almost as if there where the words "Drink Me" carved on its surface.

She reached out for the decanter, opened it and raised it to her nose to smell its contents. The smell was overpowering yet not unpleasant, almost like the incense a friend of the family had brought back from the continent. Glancing around to make certain no one was about to notice her breach of conduct she put the decanter's mouth to her lips and took a small sip.

The liquid inside was thick and sweet, sickeningly so as it slid down her throat. Her fingers slipped, causing the decanter to fall to the floor, smashing against the stone.

Feeling suddenly drowsy Alice sat in the nearest chair and drifted off to sleep.

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**No, I am not dead, just on hiatus.... .**


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